Savior
by Tina101
Summary: After the war, George is left alone and depressed with his other half dead. To help him cope, he finds solace in Firewhiskey. And yet, through all the pain, can he find love?
1. Chapter 1

_Savior_

**Chapter 1:**

It was the wee hours of the morning, and George was just getting home to his ratty old apartment above Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. It was beyond lonely with Fred gone. Fred…George took a sip of Firewhiskey from the nearly empty bottle clutched firmly in his hand. Even the burning liquid had started to lose its affect on him and his ability to drown out the pain. It took too much effort to turn on some lights, so he stumbled blindly through the mess that was his home. This, of course, ensued much swearing on his part, but he was too lazy to actually fix the situation. Instead, he managed to get to his room, where he tripped over a stack of books and fell into bed. There, he downed the last of his Firewhiskey and passed out for the night sprawled across his unmade bed.

The next thing George was aware of was distant voices. The next thing that registered, unfortunately, was a pounding headache. Great, just great, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment.

"George!" That sounded like Ron's voice. George figured if he ignored it the voice would eventually go away.

Instead, someone nudged his shoulder and said, "Come on, George, time to get up." That voice sounded like Harry. What in the world were they doing in his flat?

"Sod off," George grumbled miserably, hoping they'd take a hint and get lost.

"Get _up_!" Ron exclaimed as he shoved him off the bed, which only made his headache worse. Strike what he said earlier, this was the last thing he wanted to deal with at the moment.

"What the hell is your problem!?" he exclaimed as he scrambled to his feet, blindly swinging his wand around.

"Whoa, George, calm down," Harry reasoned.

"I'll calm down after you tell me what the hell you're doing in my flat at this hour!"

"'This hour'!?" Ron repeated hotly. "It's nearly two in the afternoon!"

"And…"

"Last night was Ginny's birthday party, ringing any bells?" Harry snapped. He usually made sure to stay out of the Weasley's problems, but when Ginny was involved, so was he.

"Whatever," George muttered bitterly as he brushed past the two of them and locked himself in the bathroom. Maybe if he stayed in there long enough they'd get a clue and get lost.

In the bathroom, George stumbled around under the sink until his fingers closed around the smooth, cool neck of a bottle of Firewhiskey. His stash in here was starting to run low, but it looked like it was just enough to ward off the pounding headache that was forming behind his eyes.

"George let us in!" Ron exclaimed as he pounded on the door. George put a silencing charm on the door and slumped down on the floor with his precious bottle in hand. Eventually they'd get a clue and leave him alone. Until then, he had his only friend and source of comfort.

Ron stayed pounding on the bathroom door for nearly twenty minutes. Harry suggested blowing the door off, but that seemed a bit on the extreme side.

"Ron, Ron, it's not worth it, he's not going to come out," Harry said. Sighing, Ron stopped banging angrily.

"I just don't what's gotten into him lately," he said before they both Disapparated back to the Burrow where Ginny and Hermione were waiting for them.

The second the guys Apparated in the living room of the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley rushed out of the kitchen with an expectant look. Her face fell when she realized that George wasn't with her.

"Sorry, Mum," Ron said almost shamefully as he and Harry headed outside to where Ginny and Hermione were waiting for their return with Teddy.

Outside, Teddy looked up expectantly at the sound of Harry and Ron approaching. He held up his pudgy hands, waiting for his beloved godfather to pick him up. Instead, the two plopped down on the grass, and Harry pulled him onto his lap.

"How's George?" Hermione asked.

"He was passed out drunk when we found him," Ron sighed as he stretched out across the grass with his head in her lap. She stroked his hair lovingly.

"So he didn't even realize that he missed last night?" Ginny asked. Her voice was laced with obvious pain.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered as he leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. He truly felt bad for her. It had to be terrible to know that her brother was too busy getting drunk to come to her own birthday party.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

George wandered around the shop. Boxes of unsold products cast long shadows in the dimming light. Dust coated everything and anything. There was no way he'd be able to run this on his own. He didn't even know why he was down here; everywhere he looked he was plagued with memories of Fred. This was too much to handle. All he wanted to do was grab a bottle of Firewhiskey from the office at the back of the store. Outside, he saw some people walking by. They stopped to stare at the window for a split second before shaking their heads and walking away. It was obvious that they felt sorry for him. Every day, more and more stores were opening up in Diagon Alley; things were starting to go back to normal in the Wizarding world.

In the office, George pulled an empty bottle of Firewhiskey out of the bottom drawer. Letting out a frustrated shout, he threw it with all his might against the wall. Great, now he had to go out and get some more. This wasn't exactly what he felt like dealing with at the moment. At least once he got back he'd have something in his system.

Cursing under his breath, George finally emerged from his pathetic little hovel and trudged down the street to the Leaky Cauldron to buy a few bottles of Firewhiskey. It would have been easier to just Apparate there, but he wasn't sure he could focus hard enough to get there and back in one piece; it wasn't like it was far anyway.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed with wizards and witches. George just had one thing in mind; he had to get some Firewhiskey.

Just as he was about to get his hands on some, someone called out, "Hey! George!" Groaning inwardly, he turned around to see Lee waving him down across the dimly lit pub. "Come have a drink." A drink didn't sound half bad. After all, that was why he was here. He wandered over to the semi-secluded booth and plopped down across from Lee.

"How have you been?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.

"Alright, I guess, hanging in there. How about you?" Instead of answering, George waved down a waiter and ordered a large Firewhiskey. "George, how have you been lately?" Lee pressed.

"What does it matter?" he snapped as he took the Firewhiskey from the waiter and drained half the mug in one swig. "None of that matters anymore."

"Cut the crap, George, you gotta try and move on. I know its tough-"

"No you don't, you don't know what it's like to lose the other half of you! Stop the pity party, I came over to talk to you, not talk about what used to be." Lee rolled his eyes. He hadn't expected such a blow up from George. He was usually pretty calm and level-headed.

George finished off his mug of Firewhiskey and waved down the waiter to order another one.

"Whoa, don't you think you should slow down there?" Lee commented.

"Yes Mum," George snapped before taking a long drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Already, he could feel the buzz from the alcohol kicking in; just a little bit more and he'd be able to drown out Lee and his terrible nagging. This was too much like the old days, back when it was the two of them and Fred causing all sorts of trouble all over Hogwarts. Those old days would, sadly, never come back. Instead, George now had to deal with the terrifying reality that he would be alone forever.

It was starting to get late, and Lee had to get going. He didn't want to leave George though, not in this state. His was literally piss drunk and still drinking. Lee waved down the waiter and paid for both of their tabs.

"Come on, let's get you home," he told George as he helped him to his feet. Right away, his friend slumped over. Lee held onto his arm firmly and Disapparated them both back to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

George was surprised when he finally came around the next morning to find that he was home. The last thing he remembered was being at the Leaky Cauldron with Lee. He must have had something to do with him getting home in one piece, well as much of one piece as he was at the moment. He still needed to get more Firewhiskey, especially with this pounding headache coming on.

Lee woke up the following morning, and the first thing he did was go to the Burrow. He wasn't exactly sure who he needed to talk to, but he figured that he should talk to one of the  
Weasleys about what he saw with George the night before. He Apparated a little ways down the road from the Burrow and walked the rest of the way. When he got to the house, he was surprised to see Ron outside. It looked like he was getting ready to leave.

"Ron!" Lee exclaimed. Ron spun around at the sound of his voice; when he saw who it was, his face lit up.

"Lee! How are you doing?" he asked as he walked across the front lawn to approach his old friend. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm actually here about George." Ron's face fell almost immediately. He was afraid to hear where this conversation was going to go from here.

"What about him?" he managed to say.

"I ran into him at the Leaky Cauldron last night, and he looked pretty bad. He had like five mugs of Firewhiskey and would have kept going if he hadn't passed out. He's not handling this whole thing with Fred well at all."

"I know. He doesn't care, and I can't really make him care. Harry and I just saw him a little while ago; he missed Ginny's birthday party. I haven't told my mum how he is; she doesn't need that to deal with on top of everything else going on." Lee nodded. He completely understood that. Mrs. Weasley was still grieving over the loss of Fred along with dealing with the impending arrival of her first grandchild from Bill and Fleur. It was a lot for her to deal with at the moment, or at any moment really.

"Alright," Lee said sadly. "I just wanted to let you know. I didn't know if the behavior last night was a onetime thing or a something else."

"It's something else, I'm afraid. I'll try and talk to George again."

"Thanks mate." The two shook hands and Disapparated simultaneously for their respective locations.

When Ron got back to Grimmauld Place, he didn't exactly want to think about the conversation he had just had with Lee. He didn't want to admit that George had a drinking problem. None of them really understood what he was going through. Sure they'd all lost a brother and a son, but Fred and George were a package deal; they had always been at each others' sides, literally to the very end. To see one without the other was rare and newsworthy in the _Daily Prophet_ to be completely honest.

"Everything alright, baby? You have that look on your face, " Hermione pointed out as she smoothed Ron's fiery red hair out of his face and looked deep into his troubled blue eyes.

"I ran into Lee as I left the Burrow, and he said that he saw George last night, piss drunk. He's using Firewhiskey to drown out his problems, and it doesn't look good." She kissed his cheek softly.

"Don't you stress out, there's enough to worry about," she whispered as she laced their fingers together, swinging their hands back and forth casually.

"I can't help but worry, he's my bloody brother!" Ron exclaimed hotly.

"I know that! You have to talk to him, that's all you can really do at the moment," she pointed out rather bluntly.

"That's not enough," he snapped before turning away and stalking up to his bedroom where he could think all of this through without the useless words of Hermione. He couldn't believe how calmly she was taking all of this! George was practically her brother, and she apparently didn't care that he was falling apart before their very eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

It was a particularly windy October afternoon. Angelia wandered mindlessly down the streets of Diagon Alley. She had no clue where she was going, she was following wherever her feet were taking her. That quickly turned out to be a less than ideal idea. She found herself outside Fred and George's, no wait…just George's shop. She peaked inside. There was still merchandise still untouched on the shelves and a fresh layer of dust coating the entire store. Cobwebs were even starting to form. Angelina sighed. This place used to be a hotspot in Diagon Alley, and now it looked like a hole in the wall. Taking a risk, she rapped firmly on the window, hoping that George would hear here wherever he was. She didn't know why she was knocking, but she was.

"Don't waste your time, honey, place is closed down," an older witch said as she passed by. Angelina spun around. "Poor thing," she said with a cluck. "His twin died in the war, and he hasn't opened up since." Angelina turned back around and knocked even harder on the window, she wasn't going to back down.

George was lounged across the couch upstairs in his flat when he heard a distant knocking. At first he thought that it was all in his head, but he quickly figured out that it wasn't. Groaning, he stumbled to his feet and headed downstairs, ready to yell at whatever potential customer was waiting outside for business; he wasn't going to open up shop ever again, and people needed to realize that. George was shocked, however, to discover that it was Angelina standing outside, tapping on the window. Sighing, he began to turn away to retreat to the sanctuary of his flat

"George, please!" Angelina pleaded through the glass. Her voice was muffled by the thick glass. "I just wanted to say hello and see how you were doing." Shaking his head, he started to walk away. Whenever he saw Angelina, he instantly thought of Fred. The two of them had so many memories together. Fred even swore that she was the one, and now he'd never have the chance to tell her that. "George! Please don't leave me!" He spun around. The pain and longing in her eyes would have torn his heart in two had it not been numbed by the alcohol.

"Fine," he relented as he unlocked the door letting her in. She rushed in out of the cold and pulled George into a warm, comforting hug. This completely caught him off guard. The last time someone had shown him affection like that had been a lifetime ago.

"It's so good to see you," Angelina whispered in his good ear. Tears welled up in her brown eyes as she reluctantly let go. Smiling sheepishly, she backed away and wiped her tears.

"Yeah, uhh, it's good to see you too," he stammered as he headed back upstairs to his flat. Sighing, Angelina trailed after him. She knew that she should have expected this instead of the peppy George she was accustomed to.

"George, will you please stay and talk to me?" she asked as they bound up the stairs. He didn't break his long stride or even turn around to face her. Instead, he went into the kitchen and grabbed his nearly empty bottle of Firewhiskey.

"Why did you come here?" he snapped before taking a swig.

"I wanted to see you," she confessed softly. "I figured you of all people would understand what I'm going through." George shook his head.

"You have no idea what I'm going," he pointed out rather bluntly. Angelina sighed.

"I lost someone too!" she argued. "Did you forget that part?" She paused for a second. "This was a mistake, you're obviously too busy to talk to me." Just as she turned to walk away, George reached out and grabbed her arm firmly.

"Don't leave," he pleaded. He sounded like a small child desperate for any type of attention. She turned around and looked George in the eye.

"Fine, I'll stay if you'll stop acting like such an arse."  
"Deal." George couldn't figure out why he was so desperate to spend time with Angelina. Maybe it was their common loss, or maybe it was the fact that she was the first person to act somewhat compassionate towards him in a lifetime.

Regardless, Angelina was staying. She ignored the mess scattered across the flat and took a seat on the edge of the couch. George took a seat on the other side of the couch. An incredibly awkward silence followed.

Finally, Angelina said, "I, uh, heard about your brother, Bill, and his wife. You must be pretty excited." He gave her an incredibly confused look.

"What are you talking about?"

"Didn't someone tell you? Fleur's pregnant." This caught George completely off guard. He couldn't figure out why in the world nobody told him. The last time he had really talked to his family had been a lifetime ago, so it kind of made sense that no one had come forward and told him the fabulous news. What really got to him was that his dead brother's girlfriend knew before he did.

All George could really say to this news was, "Oh…okay." What else was he supposed to say to that? He couldn't believe that his family would intentionally leave him out of the loop.

"You mean you didn't know?"

"No, I didn't. Thanks for telling me. I'll have to stop by the Shell Cottage and talk to them tomorrow I guess." Suddenly Angelina felt incredibly uncomfortable. She couldn't figure out why in the world the Weasleys would keep this from George. He must have done something wrong.

George got up and grabbed his bottle of Firewhiskey out of the kitchen and finished it off with one giant breath. Angelina looked at him with wide eyes. Sure she'd seen the twins get a little on the tipsy side, the parties after Quidditch victories tended to include alcohol…at least for the older students. This, however, seemed a little bit on the extreme side, even for a party boy like George. He saw her looking and stopped.

"Oh, sorry, do you want something to drink?" he asked as if it was no big deal. Angelina came to her senses and shook her head.

"No, I'm fine," she replied softly as she stood. "I have to get going, but please floo me or send me an owl if you need anything, day or not." George nodded. She gave him an awkward hug before Disapparating right before his eyes.

After Angelina left, George realized just how lonely and quiet his flat was. Having another person with him, even for a few minutes, was slightly rejuvenating. Deep down inside, it felt wonderful to see Angelina. Human interaction was extremely limited for him; most of the time he spent his days wasting away his days and staring at the bottom of a bottle. It was a lonely life, but it was the only way George knew how to live at this point.


End file.
